


A New Medium

by Kurusugawa



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Drabble, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 12:02:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16241219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kurusugawa/pseuds/Kurusugawa
Summary: "Are you painting?" / "Yes."/ "...With coffee?"





	A New Medium

The whir of the hair dryer ricochets off the café walls. He’s not entirely sure why Sojiro would store a _hair dryer of all things_ in a public bathroom, but he’s not complaining. Not while the coffee stain on the artbook flares like a siren, a flower of light and dark brown blooming through the cover and into the first few pages. The second apology sits on his tongue, because really this _was_ a rare artbook and Yusuke had gone out of his way to show it to him... and he repaid the favor in clumsiness.

(Yusuke had blinked. Once. Twice.

“...My word—”

Ren’s jaw had dropped.

“Shit- Sorry Yusuke, I’ll clean it up— I can buy a new one—”)

Except he couldn’t, because this was from that old bookstore at the corner in Jinbocho. There probably _weren’t_ any copies left. Yusuke had assured him it was fine and even insisted on the cup of coffee that kept him past closing hours, but Ren still felt guilty. At the other end of the bar, he sees Yusuke staring at the _Sayuri_ before flickering back to the pad of paper folded before him.

He lays the hair dryer on the counter, the scent of coffee still curling from the book. It would take a while to completely evaporate from the paper. Maybe the smell would never leave and Yusuke would be stuck with an antique reeking of caffeine.

His fingers trace over the stain, the soft cover pruned and crinkling with the right amount of pressure. Dry, but brittle. He tries to recall the treasures he scraped from the last Palace. Iwai normally didn’t pay much for broken calculators or a few stacks of hole gold, but maybe it’d be enough to replace the art book.

 _Ukiyo-e,_ the title boasts in strong ink. Ren recalled asking Yusuke if he ever tried woodblock painting...

...and then, amid Yusuke’s answer, he had carelessly elbowed the mug.

“This is the best I can do,” he sighs, sliding the book down the bar. “Again, I’m really sorry, Yusuke...”

Silence.

 _Yeah. He’s upset._ Ren chances a look, intending to search Yusuke’s face for any familiar lines of anger. Instead, his eyes catch the image of Yusuke dipping his paintbrush in his coffee.

Huh.

“Do you,” the words suspend for a handful of seconds. “want another cup...?”

Yusuke shakes his head, draws the brush along the paper, bristles dragging damp trails across the blank page. “No thank you; this is all I need.”

A breath of silence.

“I meant to drink,” he closes the distance, curiosity pricking his tongue. “Are you painting?”

He lifts his head to the _Sayuri_ , then back to the paper. It’s not a replica of the painting Yusuke continues to gaze upon, but Ren makes out what he thinks is a branch stretching from one corner of the page to the centre, light brown splotches that reassemble flowers peppered along its body. “Yes,” Yusuke responds, as if it were _that obvious._

“...With coffee?”

His hand stills, Yusuke looks at him and Ren knows him well enough that the confusion in his eyes is genuine. “What else is there to use?”

His shoulders lift in a shrug. “I don’t know, ink? Paint?”

“I didn’t bring them with me today. In my rush to catch the train, I grabbed a brush instead of pencils,” he deposits the brush in the mug, handle ringing dully against its walls. “I believe this is what they call ‘improvising’? I’ve heard of artists using food as mediums. A waste, true, but sometimes art requires sacrifices.”

Ren coughs out a soft, one-note laugh. “I suppose.”

“Hm,” There’s a ghost of a smile playing on Yusuke’s lips as he brings the drink to his lips, paintbrush sliding along the circumference before touching his nose. “It’s grown quite cold. Perhaps I could use another.”

Well, he muses, pushing away from the counter. At least he's not drinking paint water this time.

“Coming right up.”


End file.
